Dreams Borne On Ice
by SiobhanSundering
Summary: TsurukoxMotoko. Shoujo-ai and incest. Motoko has always loved her older sister, but it becomes much harder when she is forced to spend more time with Tsuruko due to the quickly waning funds of the God's Cry School.
1. Genesis Revelations

Disclaimer: Okay, obviously I don't own Love Hina. I've dealt with it....I've moved on.

  
  


A/N: This is shoujo-ai (girl/girl relationship) and in addition, it is incest. No graphic-ness yet, but these themes warranted the rating. If either of these don't float your boat, there are plenty of excellent fanfics that don't contain either. However, this is not one of them. So with this warning, and all this reading and realizing time for you to vacate this page, I claim no responsibilities for traumatized minds, closed minds, basically any mindset whatsoever save for my own. This is also non-canon, so try not to get too neurotic please ^_^. Italics emphasize words, thoughts are placed in ' ' doohickeys.

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Genesis Revelations

  
  


Once again they stood on the battlefield, the setting that was ever present in her dreams, now made all too real. She had always known this day would come, and she had always dreaded it. The solid knowledge lay in her mind that no matter how much she had trained, no matter how prepared she was for this, there was no way she could emerge the victor.

  
  


She gazed at the older version of herself from across the field, her heart beating in and through her chest like an erratic profession of her reluctance, no, her inability to put her all into the fight. Her sister waited calmly, as always serene and elegant, her battle aura just a thought's breath away. 'Tsuruko,' she thought despairingly, 'why do you always have to do this to me?' Her grip on her blade tightened, the connection with an object so much a part of her somehow reassuring her, until Tsuruko's voice cut across the distance separating them.

  
  


"Motoko, you may begin anytime you are ready."

  
  


The younger dark haired warrior nodded her acquiescence swiftly, thinking with no little amusement, 'If that were so, we would never begin, and we would be doomed to stand on this battlefield for eternity, for I will never be ready to do battle with you, sister.' Of a surety, she did have support, if you counted that perverted fool Urashima as support. She looked back to see him standing on the sidelines, observing the proceedings with that huge grin he had, the one that could power all the lights in Japan for a year. Also, there was the strange blade he had given her, the Hina blade. It felt strange, almost sinister in her slightly sweaty grip, but the power radiating from it was tangible, undeniable. Nevertheless, Motoko Aoyama most definitely would not count the odds in her favor. All her life she had admired Tsuruko as the prodigy of the God's Cry School, and she knew better than anyone else that all the admiration Tsuruko had garnered for her steady demeanor, graceful movement, and unsurpassable skill with the blade was not idly earned. However, beyond all else, Motoko counted herself a warrior, and a warrior did not back down, even when it killed her to press on. With this in mind, she gave a cry, that echoed across the clear area.

  
  


In tandem with her shout, she charged at her opponent, her white gi and dark hair fluttering in the wind created by her progress. Planting her feet in the ground before her still calm sister, who had not moved an inch since Motoko began her charge, she flexed and sprang into the air, momentarily hovering in the air above. Once the initial moment of inertia passed, she began her plummet aimed directly at Tsuruko's still form, the Hina blade slicing in an up-down motion unerringly at the target. The singing black blade met with empty air, Tsuruko having moved with amazing speed at the last possible moment. If Motoko had been able to see Tsuruko move, she imagined she would have seen her sister shift gracefully out of harm's way, without a single change in her stoic expression. Motoko could have sworn she'd heard that idiot Urashima whisper something startlingly like "show-off", so she guessed that was about how it happened, but her mind was on something else. The fight that her subconscious refused to allow her to win. Immediately she followed up her initial stroke with a sweeping slice, executed as she landed gently on the stone of the ground. Once again, she met with nothing. 'It is rather irritating to hit nothing twice in a row, and rather wasteful of energy.' Motoko told herself, chastising herself mentally, looking wildly about for her, at least in name, opponent. Tsuruko had already begun her ascent. Unable to stop herself, Motoko watched her sister's rise into the air with a sense of awe, like a animal caught in the headlights of some beautiful but deadly automobile. All too soon, even as she was still focused on the image that looked like it was created in the mind of some gracious idealist, she realized that Tsuruko was coming back down, and coming back down unbelievably fast. Barely in time, Motoko gathered her wits and rolled out of harm's way, moments before Tsuruko's blade struck the stone on which a frozen Motoko had kneeled, shattering it in an undulating shockwave that boosted a still rolling Motoko into the air upon its energy and then dropped her down again with a, to Motoko's undying shame, very ungraceful thump.

  
  


"Motoko. Your crude style is quite disheartening. Your attack lacks conviction. How do you expect yourself to take my place if you cannot put your heart into the technique?" Tsuruko said, in what passed for her as a rueful tone, her sword sweeping for the end of the short lived battle. Motoko watched the blade draw closer, and although she could easily have dodged out of the way, she didn't. The crushing knowledge of her sister's disapproval robbed her of her desire to act. All her life she had looked up to Tsuruko. Everybody looked up to and admired Tsuruko, but no one more than Motoko. And now, Motoko bowed her head, it was over. Although she did not ever have the intention of disappointing the sister she had placed on a pedestal, there was no way she could ever hurt Tsuruko.

  
  


Explosions rang throughout the paved field as Su's special bombs detonated, and in the aftermath of the explosions a thick cloud of smoke billowed over the battleground, obscuring the vision of everybody present, but giving the young warrior a definite opportunity. As any warrior would, she took it. Quickly Motoko came to her feet, coughing slightly from the large particles in the debris, and swung her blade up to the ready position. She glanced behind her to see Keitaro giving her a strange thumbs-up sign, smiling that infectious smile of his. 'Well, maybe he isn't quite so much of a fool...' she thought offhandedly. That was something to think about on a rainy day, she decided. Now was the time for the fight. Slowly the smoke began to clear, the gently stirring wind serving to clear some of the billowy debris. A figure began to emerge from the shifting hazy gray. Tsuruko stood at ease, like some image from an old epic, the warrior goddess after the storm, her sword hanging deceptively relaxed from her grip at her side. The explosions..hadn't ruffled her at all, Motoko could tell, not a tear in her robe or a single errant hair.

  
  


"Resorting to cheap tricks sister? Well I must confess, it was somewhat of a shock. However, tricks are not a replacement for true technique and skill. This ends now." Tsuruko's face took on her Motoko punishing visage, causing Motoko to sweatdrop and quake with fear. She hated when her older sister was angry with her. It almost made her want to commit seppuku on the spot, if she didn't know it would be beyond dishonorable. With a tensing of muscles, Tsuruko began her flurry of attacks, Motoko barely defending, feet steadily inching backwards in an attempt to escape the onslaught of her angry sister. Blades contacted again and again, the brief but frequent strikes causing Motoko to wear down, become desperate for a halt in the onslaught mounted by the older warrior. Suddenly, she spied an opening. The strategy exploded into her mind with crystal clarity. Feint an attack to Tsuruko's left, and then come around through the opening to rest her blade on the side of Tsuruko's exposed neck. It was perfect and she had every confidence it would succeed, if she acted now, before the moment passed.

  
  


Internally she prepared herself to initiate the attack, her grip tightening with the Hina blade and as the moment approached she readied herself. Even as she should have began the feint that would bring about the coup, she realized that she couldn't do it. The moment passed in an instant, the opening closed. Tsuruko sliced, knocking the dark blade out of Motoko's quickly numbing hands. The older Aoyama's leg sweeped around, knocking Motoko to her knees. An instant later, she was kneeling on the ground with Tsuruko's shining iron blade pressed against her throat.

  
  


"Yield." Tsuruko said calmly, with no trace of emotion in her dark eyes. The steel pressed gently into Motoko's neck, just enough to send a clear threat, but not enough for its sharp edge to draw blood. Motoko heaved an internal sigh. It was over. Although the day had brought her no honor as a warrior because she knew she had not tried her hardest, it was undeniable that she had lost, and with this, there was relief. She opened her mouth to shape the word, the word of submission that she had only ever uttered to her older sister, who was the only person in the world she considered worthy of her submission.

  
  


"NO!" A distinctly male voice carried into the girl's ear. The voice was panicked and just the tone of it made her want to wheel around and knock Urashima skybound. 'Instinctive reflex.' Motoko guessed. She almost found herself screaming with irritation. 'That idiot. What the hell's he doing now?!'. Both Tsuruko and Motoko whipped their heads around to see what was going on, Motoko wincing briefly in pain as Tsuruko's blade bit shallowly into her neck. 'Fortunately, not a vital part.' she told herself, blocking the pain out as she watched Urashima running for the Hina blade. Before anyone could stop him, he had the black blade in his hands. 

  
  


As soon as he touched the mysterious Hina blade, dark energy began to pulsate around him, the sword somehow instilling him with some kind of spiritual force. A grin unlike his usual megawatt smiles lit up his face, transforming it from just mildly dull to maniacally idiotic, at least in Motoko's eyes. Somehow, Keitaro Urashima had become stronger, more assured, most obviously not himself. He stared at his hands holding the Hina blade as if it was some long lost lover, caressing the slightly worn hilt as if it were warm flesh long missed. Then he turned and leered at the two women before he spoke.

  
  


"Ahhh, a new body at last, and..how convenient it is, to have two whelps from the God's Cry School of bitches so readily near for my destructive pleasure." He stretched, as if accustoming himself to a new body, like the flesh was something he was inexperienced with, the muscles not his own. Experimentally he flexed a few muscles, somewhat similar to test driving a new car before taking it out for a ride. Staring at the puny flaccid muscles through Keitaro's grimy glasses, he grimaced.

  
  


"It is quite a pathetic body," he said to himself, "but with my blade it will be more than enough."

The person who obviously was not Keitaro any longer began advancing on the two women, the menace unmistakable in his eyes. His sword was almost radiating the evil desire to rend and tear, to destroy without discrimination. The malicious intent was echoed in every footstep evil Keitaro took, each contact he made with the ground was like a spreading of his blight.

  
  


Tsuruko whipped her blade smoothly away from Motoko's pale slender neck, which was slowly trickling bright crimson blood from the shallow cut the blade had made. Motoko looked up to see concern in her beloved older sister's eyes.

  
  


"Damn me for a fool!," Tsuruko said angrily. "I should have noticed it before. Motoko, that blade you wielded, was it the Hina blade?"

  
  


"Yes...yes it was. Why?" Motoko's heart fell. Almost she had believed that Tsuruko was concerned about the cut upon her neck. As the thought hit her, she dismissed it roughly. Motoko Aoyama was a warrior and physical pain was nothing. However, she was now very nervous, because somehow she knew she wasn't going to particularly enjoy the answer to her question.

  
  


"I'll tell you later. No time now!" Tsuruko said as the evil spirit possessing Urashima swung. Tsuruko swiftly blocked the swing and parried, only to have her blade repelled in turn. 

  
  


"Oh, now I know that is truly not Keitaro Urashima. There is absolutely no possibility of that clodhopper lasting this long in a battle against the prodigy of the Shinmei Ryuu. In fact, there is absolutely no possibility of that clodhopper even being able to hold a blade without impaling himself in the foot with it." Motoko muttered to herself, still prone in her position on the floor, somewhat afraid of being sliced by an errant blade, as she knew that her sister's concern right now was not for her and evil Urashima definitely would consider it a good day's work to eliminate the heir to the Shinmei Ryuu School, even if it was an extremely inadequate heir.

  
  


Motoko heard a gasp, and she saw that evil Keitaro had dodged a thrust of Tsuruko's and had used her propelling forward momentum to bring her roughly into his ready arms in some kind of twisted caress. Swiftly, he swept her down into something like a cliched scene from a romance novel, not that Motoko had ever indulged in such things. Planting his lips demandingly on Tsuruko's, enjoying the look of supreme shock on the beautiful warrior's face, ignoring the silver blade falling from her suddenly nerveless grasp, he began kissing the hell out of her.

  
  


'Oh god, tell me he's not using tongue. Shit. He is.' A sickening wave of emotion passed through Motoko's frame. It was a revitalizing wind blowing through her flesh, leaving her refreshed and energized, better than ever. That rat bastard who was almost as perverted as Urashima was kissing her sister. Retribution would sound its cruel bell of inevitablity through the instrument of Tsuruko's blade, wielded by the sister who idolized her. Soundlessly she ran towards evil Keitaro and her sister, sweeping up Tsuruko's fallen blade. Anger burst inside her, lending her even more strength. Years of persistent and constant training allowed her to harness that otherwise blinding anger into power, instead of letting it overcome her and control her actions.

  
  


Tsuruko's body fell to the ground in an unconscious heap as the evil spirit finally released her from his grasp, all the chi seemingly sucked out of her by the kiss of evil Urashima. He straightened, laughing evilly even as Motoko gave a cry of unbridled and pure horror and charged him. 

  
  


Their blades clashed, dancing in a contest of wills as they charged about the battlefield at unbelievable speeds, blurs of color stopping every so often in locked blades, only to break apart and begin the tango again. The evil spirit had underestimated her, she knew. It had consciously observed the fight between her and Tsuruko even as Motoko had wielded it in the form of the Hina blade. For obvious reasons, it was not impressed by her battle prowess. Then and there, she vowed to teach the evil spirit the true fury of a student of the God's Cry School. Through the flashing of their often conjoined swords, Motoko saw her opening. This time, she did not hesitate to take it. The evil spirit was not Tsuruko. Leaping into the air with the prowess and grace of a hunting cat, she performed the most difficult attack in the God's Cry School.

  
  


"Cutting Evil Strike!"

  
  


The shock wave flashed a rippling and blinding white and crashed through Urashima's body, wracking it in agony as the evil spirit tried to resist exorcism. However, it soon became clear that it was a losing battle and the spirit was soon expelled back into the dark Hina blade from whence it had emerged, the tortured and angry dark mist crawling under the surface of the black steel. With no one left to hold it, the blade fell in tandem with Keitaro's body and clanged on the stone paving with ringing noises that sounded almost unnatural compared to the silence that bloomed ripe and heady after Motoko had performed the Cutting Evil Strike.

  
  


Motoko fell to her knees, actually not believing that it had worked, extremely exhausted from the effort of executing the ultimate attack of the God's Cry School. Deep breaths slowly pumped the adrenaline out of her system, only to have her heartbeat jackknife again at an alarming rate as she heard soft clapping, followed by a familiar low, melodious voice.

  
  


"Well done, sister. You fought well indeed...in fact, I wonder if I could have matched your performance." Tsuruko still lay on the ground, with one arm propping up her head. She looked at her younger sister in a curious fashion, as if there was some question plaguing her in the back of her mind and she couldn't quite pin the answer down. Unnerved by Tsuruko's questioning eyes, and so full of relief to find her older sister well that she was about to cry in a most unwarrior-like fashion, she quickly moved to make sure Urashima was alive, muttering only the perfunctory phrase.

  
  


"It was nothing, sister."

  
  


"Wow! What just happened? Did I miss anything?!" Keitaro sprang up like a human jack-in-the-box, apparently completely healthy. His sudden action caused Motoko to utter a soft cry and stumble backwards, tripping on a crack in the stone to land on the still reclining Tsuruko.

  
  


Her head's landing was softly pillowed by Tsuruko's stomach, however, the force of the fall caused both Tsuruko and Motoko to grunt softly. Momentarily disoriented, Motoko lay there on Tsuruko, the scent of Tsuruko's body enveloping her, and the warmth of her body making Motoko's heart beat erratically. She stiffened as Tsuruko's hand came up to gently cup the side of her face.

  
  


"Are you all right?" Tsuruko asked.

  
  


"Yes, I'm fine, sister." Motoko raised herself reluctantly to a sitting position, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs from within. She had, she had almost detected a sense of concern in her sister's normally stoic expression. Immediately, she winced. 'That damn cut, I reopened it again.' She needed to distract herself from the hope. Thankfully, there was an easy target nearby.

  
  


"URASHIMA!!" She screamed at the top of her very ample lung power. She would have hit him with her sword, but it was not the bokken she usually wielded and, contrary to popular belief, she never had any intention whatsoever to kill Urashima, she merely wanted at times to incapacitate him for prolonged periods of time. However, though she could not strike him with her blade, she could deliver a punch as powerful as Naru's, with a whopping kick to boot. Therefore, with one punch to the face, and one roundhouse kick to the stomach, Keitaro Urashima, the seemingly immortal human cannonball, was sent flying into space. Tsuruko and Motoko watched his progression into the sky, with identical expressions on their similar faces. As the speck that was Keitaro vanished from sight, Tsuruko turned to Motoko with an almost reproachful look on her face.

  
  


"Motoko, you should not have done that quite so violently...I'm sure he did not do that on purpose." Tsuruko was once again her unruffled, always in control, self. Perhaps deeming the subject closed, she moved on. "You did well against the spirit. However, you did not win the duel against me. Therefore you are not yet ready to be head of the God's Cry School."

  
  


Motoko bowed her head in acceptance of her sister's judgement, and gathered up the Hina blade, making ready to leave. 

  
  


"There's blood on your gi, sister!" Noticing the bright splash of fluid on Tsuruko's stomach that must have come from her neck cut, she was overcome with horror. "I'm so sorry, I should have been more careful."

  
  


In her distress, she tried in vain to rub out the blood with her hands, succeeding only in staining them a crimson shade. Her efforts were stopped in their tracks with a pair of gentle hands closing warmly over her own.

  
  


"It's fine, Motoko. Leave it, I shall tend to it later." Tsuruko smiled kindly at the little sister many called a younger, still less refined version of herself.

  
  


Mortified at her uncharacteristic behavior, Motoko turned and began to walk off the field, almost reaching the edge of the stone before she was once again halted in her tracks, this time by Tsuruko's calm voice.

  
  


"Motoko," Like always, just that voice alone speaking her name was enough to halt her in her tracks and make her hang on every approaching word. "There was one thing I was wondering. If you did so extremely well against the evil spirit..why was your performance so poor against me? It was as if your focus and your chi were not in the battle."

  
  


"I....I don't know, sister. I guess I shall have to train harder." Motoko began to walk again, faster. In truth, she did not know. There was only a feeling infused within her that she could not identify. All at once, the memory returned to her of Keitaro kissing Tsuruko. It hit her like a wave that she could not escape from. She had been jealous of that evil Keitaro Urashima! Moving quickly away from the battlefield she brushed tears away from her cheeks, pushing away the thought that burned in her mind, that burned on the back of her tongue, the thought that she could never, would never say, especially now that she realized what that feeling was, and why she had been unable to give her all in the duel against her older sister. In her mind, the reason sounded off and rested within every inch of her flesh, begging to be proclaimed in its newfound realization. 'Tsuruko, I love you.'


	2. Blaze of Birthing

Disclaimer: Love Hina belongs to Ken Akamatsu. Even if I did own it, the amount of work needed to make it would make me keel over dead, so, no. Don't go there.

  
  


A/N: This is non-canon. In truth, I have little idea how the God's Cry School is run and I doubt Motoko even knows how to ice skate, but this is an idea that popped into my head and I'm running with it. 

  
  


Warning: There is heavy imagery used in this chapter. It does not ever get to a horribly graphic extent, but if you are squeamish about flesh touching flesh, you might want to bypass this one.

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Blaze of Birthing   
  


Motoko's POV

Her breathing quickens, emitting in ragged gasps as the sensations swell, overwhelming her. Warm flesh glides teasingly over her own, and waves of pleasure emanate in crescendoing waves from various points on her body which her dark haired lover nibbles in a passionate, playful, frenzy.

  
  


Abruptly, the ministrations being placed on her body cease. With an unseemly moan escaping from her tenderly bruised lips, she jerks up unsteadily, sweat running in quicksilver rivulets down her toned form.

  
  


"Tsuruko? What are you doing?"

  
  


Her sister grins, indolent and sensual, lithe body shining pale in the luminous moonlight from a nearby window. In her long slender-fingered grasp she holds a practice bokken. Even Motoko, who is admittedly not the most well-versed in the acts of love, can follow a train of logical thought to what will happen next. Aroused, she can still gasp at the lack of respect for the weapon, however, she has lost all control. Every muscle in her body tenses in anticipation as the bokken and her sister's hand draw ever nearer...

  
  


Motoko jerked awake violently, inhaling deeply for oxygen that suddenly seemed too hard to find. She was alone in her sparsely furnished room. Glancing briefly at the clock, she saw that it was only a little after midnight, but the thoughts still roiling about in her troubled mind prevented any attempts at sleep. Disgust with herself filled her until all she could do was berate herself internally. 'What in the kami are you thinking, you crazy baka!? She's your sister! It doesn't matter how beautiful, how courageous, how proud, how perfect she is, she'll never care about you that way! Plus, she's married! You don't even know if she swings that way!' And it was true, Motoko didn't have any idea whether or not her older sister was even attracted to other women, but the thing that screamed the most at Motoko's sensibilities was that Tsuruko was her sister. The young warrior had known of her attraction to other women since Kitsune had asked her if she had "other-teamly tendencies". Since then, her and Kitsune had been involved, but it had never been as deep a feeling as the ones she held for Tsuruko. She felt like a dirty, perverted, lecherous fool. 'Maybe you should spend some more time with Urashima, you're as sick as he is' she told herself. Now Kitsune was a great friend and trusted confidante, nothing more.

'Maybe I'll talk to Kitsune about this tomorrow,' Motoko thought, thinking of her seductive friend's vaunted experience. 'Yes, I think I will. Now go to sleep Motoko, you love sick baka.'

  
  


And with that self deprecating thought, Motoko laid back and tried to go back to sleep, failing miserably with the intervention of raven-hued hair, tranquil dark eyes, and perfectly toned pale flesh. 'Gods damn it,' she thought.

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Tsuruko's POV 

The flickering candle flame gutted and waved wildly as she let loose a great sigh of frustration. The great sheaf of papers rustled softly in her hands as she read through them once again, hoping for some sort of mistake. Still, the characters and numbers on the papers remained unchanged, and the fact that the God's Cry School was in debt for the first time in years remained unchanged.

  
  


Of course, she knew, she couldn't be blamed for this failing merely because she was the Head of the Shin Mei Ryuu. Traditionally, the school had always been supported by those who came of that school, for they farmed and harvested their own lands. However, of late there were warriors abandoning the school for lives in cities, and not a great deal of new blood coming in to replace the departing warriors and be trained. With the gradual but inevitable decline in numbers, the symbiotic relationship between the school's maintenance and its members failed, and now there was just not enough income coming in to provide for the maintenance of such an extensive establishment.

  
  


Even though the school's debt wasn't something she could have prevented, it was as if a heavy kappa had settled itself upon her back and was now worrying her flesh and pulling her hair. She, in her warrior's pride, would be damned before she would go down in history as the leader who had plunged the Shin Mei Ryuu into debt. Thinking of ideas to raise money, the most obvious one, the way of the sword, was quickly discarded. Long ago, the warriors of her school of fighting had sworn an oath not to harm any human, plus, underneath her icy, austere, exterior, Tsuruko was a woman who enjoyed experimenting above all else. The candlelight began to dim when the idea worked its way into Tsuruko's mind in the form of an unusually vivid memory.

  
  


The winter chill nipped at her flesh as the cries of children echoed through the

crisp, sharp air. Absentmindedly, she glided over the ice while looking down

at the smaller hand clutched tightly in hers. What happened next seemed like it

happened in slow motion. One minute she was skating perfectly proficiently on 

the ice, the next, her blade had caught in a pitted groove of the ice, and her 

balance was thrown off badly. Quickly, she released Motoko's hand and stumb-

led backwards, trying desperately to regain her balance while seeming comp-

osed at the same time, but even more so, to keep from crushing her strong, but

still small sister in her fall. Unable to catch her balance, Tsuruko began to fall.

The slow motion abruptly disappeared, replaced by a pace all too fast. She 

braced for impact against the hard ice, but instead of the rough jolt of pain, she

was cushioned, her fall padded by the bundled body of a little girl. Motoko 

showed no pain, only great concern for the well-being of her older sister. They

had gone home after that, and no doubt the experience had long since been for-

gotten by Motoko, but Tsuruko had never lost that memory and it always pop-

ped into her mind at unexpected times.

  
  


Tsuruko had always been a more than efficient skater, as she always was at most things she tried her hand at, but Motoko was something more, something beyond that, she recalled. What Motoko had, was like a supernatural gift, and watching Motoko skate was like watching fluid poetry in motion. The older Aoyama reminisced, seeing Motoko move gracefully into smooth spins and jumps, like an avatar of beauty. Everyone who had watched her skate knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that she could have made a career and become a legend out of it, but instead, she chose to follow in Tsuruko's footsteps, in the footsteps of all her warrior sister's and indeed, her warrior family. Since her decision, she had never so much as looked at a pair of skates again, but Tsuruko knew that if Motoko ever took the ice again, it would be as if she never left.

  
  


'Well, now, she can help preserve our chosen way of living with her kami gifted talent.' Tsuruko decided. With a satisfied sigh, she rose, arranging the sheaf of papers into a neat pile on her desk, snuffed out the candle, and went to bed, already planning an unexpected visit to Hinata Inn on the morrow. The look on Motoko's face would be delicious, to say the least.


	3. Emetic Overflowing

Disclaimer: Come on. If you really want me to say definitively that I am not a Japanese male by the name of Ken Akamatsu...fine. I am not a Japanese male by the name of Ken Akamatsu and I hereby forfeit all claims to the ownership of Love Hina.

  
  


A/N: As Akujin so insightfully pointed out, Kitsune is probably not the first person to pop into someone's mind when the term "trusted confidante" comes to mind. There is a reason for this!!! Also...I realized that I have some chapters formatted differently than others, and though I know it isn't a big deal, it's driving me crazy...so I'm gonna try to fix that soon.

* * *

Emetic Overflowing   
  


Motoko walked briskly down the hallway in the quiet of a decidedly typical Sunday morning. Typical, save for the fact that the house was almost empty. Keitaro and Naru had taken Shinobu, Kaolla Su, and Sarah on a shopping trip, and Mutsumi, who had apparently just shown up in the middle of the night, was gone, kami knows where. Kitsune was, presumably, still esconced in her room, sleeping off the effects of a Saturday night spent in normal Kitsune style. Motoko herself had been awake for a few hours now, but she had decided to have pity on Kitsune until now. Any sound made an unnatural contrast to the peaceful silence enveloping the home, so Motoko moved silently until she was at Kitsune's door. Taking a deep breath for courage, she felt the speed of her heart slow down as if by magic, and the strange feeling moving around in her chest dissipate. Reaching out, she grasped the edge of the sliding door and moved it out of the way as silently as possible. Barely able to avoid gasping in surprise, she took in the scene before her.

  
  


The only way to describe the appearance of Kitsune's room even close to adequately was that it looked as if Jackson Pollock had snuck in, gone through a supply of alcohol roughly equivalent to all of Saudi Arabia's natural oil reserves, and then went into vast orgiastic bouts of artistic movement involving copious amounts of clothes and bottles of alcohol. Articles of clothing lay about everywhere, hanging from dressers, on the floor, and against all odds, stuck to the ceiling. Motoko couldn't prevent herself from making a grimace of distaste, and she could only wince even further when a breeze laden with the odor of raw alcohol assailed her, to her detriment in this case, finely tuned sense of smell. Bravely weathering the assault mounted on her senses, Motoko stalked silently into Kitsune's room, deftly sidestepping piles of clothing and empty liquor bottles. Kitsune lay sprawled out on the bed, limbs askew at wild angles. Still quietly, Motoko settled into a cross legged meditative pose and regarded Kitsune, whose eyes appeared to be wide open, gazing at the ceiling. Deciding to risk it, Motoko spoke.

  
  


"Kitsune. I would like it if you could spare sometime for us to talk."

  
  


The prone form on the bed jerked up in surprise, head swerving around violently in all directions, causing Motoko to blush slightly as she realized that Kitsune was clad only in her underwear.

  
  


"Kami! How the heck d'ya sneak in here so damn quietly?! Can't anybody knock?," Kitsune's eyes focused on Motoko. "...oh hey, Motoko, why didn't you say you were looking for a little fun? I'm game if you are...and I'm actually sober..hehe."

  
  


Motoko's visage transformed from a light pink to a full on crimson hue. Looking briefly at Kitsune's curvaceous body, which currently left her imagination with little work to do, leaving her extremely dry in the throat, she glanced away quickly. Looking about the room desperately for some sort of relief or escape from the situation, which Kitsune, judging from her trademark foxy grin, was enjoying immensely, her eyes fell upon a large wooden tub sitting in the corner of Kitsune's room. It was filled to the brim with a clear liquid, which Motoko assumed was water. Without even thinking, she crossed over to the tub and dunked her head in, thinking to refresh herself and get rid of the incessant flustered feeling within herself.

  
  


Kitsune's sultry laughter filled the air in abundance as the raw, powerful smell rushed to attack Motoko viciously. Alcohol sprayed everywhere, rushing into Motoko's mouth, nose, and drenching her dark hair. Immediately, she jerked back, coughing and spluttering after ingesting a large mouthful of some extremely potent alcoholic beverage. Kitsune grinned and slid out of her bed, perfectly sober and alert, to sit on the floor.

  
  


"You know, 'Toko, you look even sexier soaked in alcohol." The foxlike woman patted the floor beside her, indicating that Motoko should sit. Still spluttering and dripping liquid, the young warrior trod unhappily to sink bonelessly next to Kitsune.

  
  


"Kitsune...there is a tub of insanely strong alcohol in the corner of your room." Mentally, Motoko winced. 'Kami, I've attained a talent for stating the patently obvious.'

  
  


"Yup, I sure do!" Kitsune grinned, unrepentant as always.

  
  


"Perhaps I should rephrase. Why is there a tub of insanely strong alcohol in the corner of your room." Flicking sodden strand of dark hair out of her face, she made it a statement, not a question.

  
  


"Well...I'll tell ya Motoko. Last night, I was hangin' front of the old tube, flippin' through the channels, and I get to this special on liver cirrhosis. Now, you know better'n most people that I don't take stock in things of that sort as a rule, but this got me scared as all hell, 'Toko." Kitsune was completely serious now, all the mischief of just a few moments ago completely vanished. Her eyes were wide open and contemplative. They were a vivid shade of hazel-ed brown that seized Motoko's attention in wonder. Being able to see the rare sight of Kitsune's eyes, in deep contemplation no less, was a rarity, even for Motoko. "I'm still young, Motoko, but the way I've been living...it's been fun, but how long can it ever last? After askin' myself that question last night, I came to a conclusion and decided to kick the habit. There wasn't a sink though, so I just dumped it all in that tub. Didn't think you'd go and dump your head in it though."

  
  


"It is completely my fault, I should not have merely assumed the tub's contents. I'll tell you what, Kitsune. Let me dry off and we will carry the tub out and dispose of it." Motoko was glad of her friend's decision and she knew that just leaving that infernal tub sitting in Kitsune's room would be a temptation only the strongest could resist, and Kitsune's personality admittedly fell more towards "pleasure whore" than "stoic ascetic".

  
  


"Really? Gotta tell ya, 'Toko, you are a real life saver. I tried carrying that damn thing out last night, couldn't budge it. But with your strong arms..." She trailed off, running her hand slowly down Motoko's arm, bursting into laughter as she watched Motoko's face turn a brilliant scarlet once again. "'Toko, you gotta relax! Y'know I'm just playing around with you. Let me get you a towel er somethin'." 

  
  


Motoko stayed slumped on the floor as Kitsune rose. Rummaging through veritable mountains of dirty laundry for what seemed like hours, it appeared as if a towel was not to be found. Kitsune threw a blouse on her bed and let out a huff of air. Motoko was about to tell Kitsune to just forget it, that she could carry the stuff out now and take a shower later, when Kitsune abruptly went to the closet and jerked it open.

  
  


"A-ha! Gotcha!" With a triumphant grin, Kitsune brandished a clean, dry, towel in the air briefly before bringing it to Motoko. "Sorry about the wait. Haven't been to that closet in...must be..oh, months now."

  
  


If it hadn't been so strange, Motoko would have been tempted to laugh, but as it was, she wasn't sure whether or not to nod and smile or to cry piteously. In the end, she chose neither of the two aforementioned options, but instead chose to take the towel, dry her hair off, and then do what she said she would. So, after toweling off her dark hair, she tossed the textured cloth, which was from the Sapporo convention now that she looked at it closely, onto the accumulating pile of clothing on Kitsune's bed. "There, I think that will suffice for now. Shall we go?"

  
  


"Yeah, let's get this show on the road, buddy. Y'know, just thought I'd mention it, that alcohol really does nice things to your hair, it's all nice and glossy."

  
  


"I am somewhat dubious about the effects of alcohol on hair, Kitsune. You take this side and I'll grab the other." Having reached the round, wooden vessel, Motoko took a secure grip on the grained wood and waited for Kitsune to do the same. Once they both were ready, the tub was hoisted into the air. After some initial readjustment due to Motoko's height and Kitsune's lower strength, the two women reached a height level and weight distribution that would allow them to get the storage contained moving without spilling everything. Inching slowly over the rough terrain of clothes and bottles they began to move out from the corner of the room, trying not to disturb the liquid inside the tub. The progress was smooth and uneventful until Kitsune's foot met an empty sake bottle. The round surface didn't allow Kitsune to catch her balance, instead, the bottle rolled, causing Kitsune's foot to shoot into the air with the momentum of it. What happened next was like it came straight out of a low grade comedic movie.

  
  


Kitsune stumbled, causing alcohol to slop over both of the women. Motoko tried to steady Kitsune and keep the tub up, resulting in a failure in both aspects. As Kitsune fell, Motoko shot out a hand and caught her before she hit the ground. However, in this process she had apparently forgotten about the tub, thus, it fell from her hand, spraying liquid all over her body and Kitsune's on its path before falling to the floor with a muffled thunk. Hoisting Kitsune to her feet, she took one look at the tub on the floor, one at the liquid all over Kitsune, and then looked down at her own soaked form, and then, overwhelmed by it all, promptly burst into tears. Swatting the tub out of the way, she sank to the carpet once again. 

  
  


"Hey now, hey now, what's up with the tears, 'Toko? It's just a little alcohol, nothing to dampen your stoic 'I am warrior, hear me roar' spirit...." Kitsune was a little shocked, and more than a little concerned at Motoko's uncharacteristic breakdown. 'Maybe it's the fumes getting to her head, they sure are getting to mine.'

  
  


"'Toko, let's get you out of that soaked gi, you're gonna get a cold and get all nauseous from it. Then we can talk about what's troublin' ya, k?" Kitsune kneeled down beside the warrior, reaching over gently to loosen the drenched robe. Peeling it off easily, she threw the sodden article of clothing over her shoulder, not even noticing where it went. After shedding her own freezing wet clothes and throwing them in the same general direction as Motoko's she settled herself across from Motoko, both drying off much more rapidly with the lack of wet clothes.

  
  


"All right, hun, what's your poison?" Kitsune asked cheerfully. Motoko's head came up, her eyes meeting Kitsune's. Suddenly, she moved forward, arms going around Kitsune's shoulders, face burying itself into the older woman's chest. 'I could say something' Kitsune thought, 'But somehow I don't think this is the time.' Instead, she placed her arms around Motoko's exposed ribcage. "All right, hun, all right. Tell the old fox what's troubling ya."

  
  


"Argh, it has been simply horrible! First I'm in love with my older sister, then I can't stop thinking about her, and now this gods be damned alcohol is clouding my senses so I can't even think straight and now I'm babbling my head off sitting here in my undergarments!" Raising her head to look at Kitsune, she moved to pull back, but Kitsune just flipped Motoko around gently, causing the young warrior to lean against her, and wrapped her arms around Motoko's stomach. It was very comforting, Motoko decided.

  
  


"So you're in love with Tsuruko? Great, why aren't you out there trying to snag her?" Kitsune stated this simply, as if it were patently obvious to whoever listened.

  
  


"I can't just do that, Kitsune! First of all, there's no reason why she'd ever be interested in someone like me, and second of all, she's my sister!" Motoko blurted out.

  
  


"Why not?," Kitsune reasoned, "Love is a connection that surpasses all else, hun. It shouldn't matter if you both happen to come from the same place or not, and I doubt you'll have any trouble with babies born with birth defects. And, who are you kidding, 'Toko, any blind woman could see you've got a hell of a lot to appreciate!"

  
  


Motoko simply shook her head at the last part. Sinking back into Kitsune's comforting warmth, she closed her eyes and relaxed. The two woman stayed in comfortable silence for a while, Motoko needed to contemplate Kitsune's advice, and Kitsune wanting to give Motoko a chance to think it over, until a gasp prompted them both to look up to the doorway. Motoko paled to a shade lighter than white, and her dark eyes widened.

  
  


"Tsuruko! I did not know you were coming! How long have you been here, ane-ue?" Her mind was racing...how long had she been here?? What had she heard? Then, she realized that she was sitting in the middle of a room, with her clothes off, clad only in her undergarments, which were soaked, with another woman, similarly clad. 'Kami.' "This isn't what it must obviously look like, sister..."

  
  


After taking in the initial sight of her little sister surrounded by puddles of alcohol, soaking wet in only a bra and underwear, in arms of another woman no less, Tsuruko was, to say the least, dumbfounded. After her initial expression of shock, however, she was outwardly her usual self. 'Another woman??! As opposed to who, Tsuruko? Yourself?? Have you gone insane?' she blasted herself inwardly, while asking Motoko a simple question, calmly as always. "Pray tell, what, little sister, is it supposed to look like?"

  
  


"Like me and Kitsune-san had gotten absolutely inebriated and spilled alcohol everywhere in the process and were now about to proceed in a session of wild lovemaking like two cats in heat...," Motoko said, eliciting a muffled laugh from Kitsune that Motoko could feel from the woman's stomach muscles tightening against her back. However, at Tsuruko's stony faced expression, she began to babble. "But that wasn't how it was, honest! Came in this morning to talk, Kitsune not drunk, tub, alcohol....dump...but dropped, broke down, and you..you..."

  
  


"Enough, sister. Calm yourself." It was rather hypocritical of her to say, being as underneath her calm visage her innards felt as if they were drumming against the rest of her body, and a strange sensation made her want to eliminate the other woman from the picture. 'Am I jealous? Argh, snap out of it, fool.' "Now try it again, this time intelligibly."

  
  


This time, however, instead of Motoko, Kitsune piped up from behind her.

  
  


"Motoko came in this morning to have a talk with me. Last night I decided to quit heavy drinking after I saw this intense special on liver cirrhosis. So I took all the alcohol in my room, poured it into that tub on the floor there, and Motoko was kind enough to offer to help me carry it outside, but clumsy old me, lost my balance and the tub flew outta my hands. And that's where we are now. Hi, by the way, I'm Kitsune, I think we've met before although I'm not too sure...the figures all blend together in my head after a while..you must be Tsuruko. It's easy to see that the sexy tall dark warrior look runs in the family. Speaking of sexy, tall dark warriors, about that wild session of lovemaking like two cats in heat, me and Motoko don't do that, not anymore at least-oof!"

  
  


Motoko's elbow collided with Kitsune's ribcage, the flesh against flesh producing a dull thwacking noise. She was slightly flushed in the face and couldn't seem to meet Tsuruko's eyes.

  
  


"Thank you Kitsune. So, you and Motoko used to be..how do they say it, an item?" She trained her voice to be steadily unconcerned.

  
  


"Yeah, we had our good times, but Motoko was always looking for something more, so now we're just friends, and it's fine that way. So, anyway, what brings you to our neck of the Tokyo jungle?"Kitsune relaxed, gently stroking Motoko's arm to calm the tense girl down. It must have worked, because gradually, all the muscles loosened in Motoko's body and she relaxed into Kitsune.

  
  


"I came because I have something of vital importance to discuss with Motoko. However, seeing your present condition, may I suggest that first you two take a shower...er..showers and then my sister and I may discuss this matter afterwards?" Cursing herself at her verbal slip, she cleared her throat and waited for a reply. It came simultaneously from the two women sprawled out before her.

  
  


"That'd be great." Kitsune and Motoko rose, ready to pay a visit to the hot springs.

  
  


Thirty minutes later, Motoko and Tsuruko sat in the privacy of Motoko's room, Motoko freshly cleaned and in a clean robe. They were seated about a table, and cups of steaming tea sat before them. It was, all in all, a very civilized looking event. Pointedly watching the steam rising from the delicate porcelain cup, she broke the silence that had settled over them.

  
  


"What did you wish to speak of, Ane-ue?" The steam wreathed in random patterns, and Motoko was picking out scenes of battle and epic wars now.

  
  


"The school. We are running out of money, Motoko. In fact, the school is in debt, and I feel as though it is up to us to fix this grievous error."

  
  


After getting over the initial shock of Tsuruko's blunt admission, Motoko quickly gathered herself, schooling her features to a calmness mirroring that of her sister's. "I must admit that I do not understand..why did you feel a need to tell me? Merely for the sake of informing, or is there something more?"

  
  


'Oh boy, here comes the hard part.' Tsuruko thought. Phrasing the next words carefully, she moved on.

  
  


"Yes, part of it is indeed the need to inform all members of the family, but moreover...I desire your assistance in the acquisition of the money." 'There...that was worded rather well...'

  
  


Delighted with being presented an opportunity to help her sister, Motoko immediately brightened. "Really? What type of assistance?"

  
  


"Last night I went over many possible methods of earning money. Of course, there was the way of the sword, but you know as well as I that it is not allowed. Then I began to think of talents that we might be able to take advantage of.." Tsuruko trailed off as she saw Motoko picking up on her train of thought. Motoko had always been an intelligent person.

"Tsuruko...you could not be suggesting that..that..not ice skating?" At the grim, almost compassionate look in Tsuruko's eyes, Motoko fell silent, only to speak again moments later. "I left that path behind, Tsuruko, you know it."

  
  


"Why?" Tsuruko's simple question startled Motoko, and she was amazed to realize that she didn't have an answer, that she'd never had an answer; the compulsion to leave the world of ice behind was just some qualifier she thought she'd had to go through to be the idyllic warrior. As she framed her mouth to reply, Tsuruko continued talking, forcing her into silence, resigning her to hearing that musical voice. "You need not give up skating just to be a warrior, Motoko. The two can coexist. In fact, it is in my mind that we shall skate together, as a doubles team."

  
  


A contemplative silence descended then, as Tsuruko gracefully lifted the no longer steaming, but still warm, tea to her lips. Motoko stared into the still depths of her drink, the liquid acting as a catalyst for her thought. 'I can't skate with Tsuruko! Every touch, every glance of flesh against flesh, it'll be enough to drive me crazy...can't tell her that though...' Searching desperately for an excuse, she lit on her last hope.

  
  


"What about your husband? Can he not skate??"

  
  


Barely, Tsuruko kept from ejecting the warm tea across the length of Motoko's moderately sized room. Swallowing what remained of the liquid, she cleared her throat.

  
  


"We're divorced...it's been..oh, about three months now. Didn't I tell you?" nonchalantly said. 'Of course I didn't tell her. Why didn't I tell her?'

  
  


"What?! No, ane-ue, you most certainly neglected to mention it. What happened?" Motoko was concerned, but not for the reason that Tsuruko must have thought 'Oh how wonderful, there goes my excuse...maybe I can divert her attention. Yes, questions.'

  
  


"I found him in our bed with another woman."

  
  


"Oh, how terrible!"

  
  


"Yes, but I am surviving; how could I do anything but? Back to our original issue, neh? Will you or will you not return to the ice with me?" Said the way she said anything, without betraying her emotions, but Motoko saw the pleading, the compelling, in her older sister's face. And now, as always, she couldn't bear to hurt her sister, much less turn her down. 'Kami take it. Don't you do it Motoko...don't you do it..'

  
  


"Well if it is important to the school and you, older sister, how could I refuse? Of course I will." 'Gods damn it. What did you do.' Motoko could barely resist the urge to bang her hand into her forehead, but she did, forgetting all when she saw the smile light up her sister's face.

  
  


"Thank you, Motoko, I know how hard it is for you to agree to something like this after so long, but I'm confident that this will be a success. I suggest we start practice as soon as possible...How about after your studies tomorrow?" Tsuruko was, very obviously, overjoyed. But once again, not for the reasons that Motoko might have supposed. 'She said she'd do it? For me?'

  
  


"Yes, I believe that should work." Inside, the thoughts were racing inside her mind like dogs chasing their tails. It seemed as if things had happened like a whirlwind and now she couldn't quite get a sense of her bearings. "Would you like to stay and perhaps have lunch with me and Kitsune? I'm not confident of when the others will return from their shopping."

  
  


"No, I regret having to refuse, but I have many things I need to plan." Tsuruko politely declined, to Motoko's secret relief. She would welcome the chance to look at her sister, but after all that had just happened, she honestly believed that she would not be able to handle it. A breakdown like the one she had had this morning was not far from coming, if anything else happened.

  
  


Cloth shifted as Tsuruko stood. Hastily, Motoko rose.

  
  


"I must needs go now...will you see me out, little sister?"

  
  


"Yes, of course!"

  
  


The sisters made their way through the halls, running into Kitsune, who was reading a newspaper, and after Tsuruko had said her farewells to the two residents of Hinata Inn, Motoko watched as the sun struck Tsuruko's elegant form, light illuminating a priceless jewel.

  
  
  
  


Kitsune stared after her for a while too, before her jaw moved and she made the comment that she'd been dying to let out, before turning quietly and going back into the main house.

  
  


"Man, 'Toko, she's almost as much of a babe as you are!" 


	4. Luminous Foundations

Disclaimer: I don't own Love Hina. Ruin my fun for me why don't you.

A/N: Here comes chapter four to save the day!! *anticlimatic fanfare*...fine. Well, here it is in all its..err glory. Input much welcome.

* * *

Luminous Foundations 

Motoko sat up in her bed, face a strange melange of bewilderment, weariness, and cognitive processing. She had, through years of strict discipline in order to gain a greater control of herself, developed somewhat of an inner alarm to wake her when she needed; she found it much easier to wake herself up than have a strident noise shock her senses and ruin her mood. Besides, those alarm clocks bore a startling resemblance to Keitaro, and it was common knowledge what happened to Keitaro when he startled Motoko. No, she didn't have that kind of budget to spend replacing alarm clocks. Glancing at her generic, noiseless clock, she saw that it was just before five in the morning and she knew instinctively there was some valid reason why she should be up this early; the only problem was, she couldn't quite remember the actual reason, which made it all a moot point. 'Damn moot points. Who invented those anyway?' Motoko mused idly to herself. Was it an errand? No, she thought, all the stores were closed at this hour. Appointment? she snorted at this, she had an innate distrust of doctors and hadn't had so much as a checkup appointment since before she could remember. Unable to put her slender finger on the reason, she shrugged. Things had a way of coming to her in time. It would come to her soon enough, she imagined; in the meantime, she swung out of bed and shrugged on a plain white bathrobe. She had recently taken to sleeping in the nude, especially in warmer weather, but she didn't think it would be a particularly good idea to parade about the inn naked, on the off chance that someone else would be up and about at this hour. As she swung on the familiarly textured robe, feeling the sensation on her skin, toned muscle shifted and played under the surface of her flesh. Pausing only to grab a towel on the way out, Motoko headed towards the hot springs.

She shed her robe absentmindedly at the edge of the hot springs, not even noticing what she was doing, or noting the white robe crumpling into a heap on one of the rocks, so foggy was her mind. One of her feet still caressing the textured raises and dips of the stone near the water's edge, Motoko's other foot penetrated the surface tension of the steaming hot springs. With a sigh of true appreciation and relief, bare, pale, flesh disappeared into revitalizing water. Submerged to just above the delicate hollow of her neck, she waded silently through the steaming waters to lean against the solid surface at the other end of the springs. Back supported by the sturdy boundary, she tilted her head back to rest against the rock with another heartfelt and grateful sigh. Spreading her arms in an idle and graceful gesture, she relaxed all control and allowed the limbs to float limply on the surface of the water, shifting slightly with the small push and pull surface currents of the springs. The enveloping warmth began to pervade her rigorously disciplined flesh, filling her, feeding her, stuffing her, until..it was as if she exploded and imploded simultaneously in the flash of realization.

Images flashed before her eyes in a rapid fire sequence; her sister's sword at her neck, her sister walking in on her and Kitsune, the conversation she and Tsuruko had had over tea. A montage slamming home recent events, it was like a transitional scene in a movie. Match cut after match cut, the common element always being Tsuruko; calm, dark, and graceful. Skating, she realized, she was supposed to meet Tsuruko at the ice skating rink this morning. Originally, it had been set for after she had concluded with her studies for the day, but the plans had been changed after the school had closed for extensive renovation. She shook her head slightly, remembering what had made the renovation necessary. Keitaro telling those girls that he'd love to play dress up with them with that huge smile on his face wasn't really the best idea, especially when Naru happened to have overheard.

Shaking herself, she levered her long body out of the water easily. Hurrying around the edges of the hot springs, she didn't stop, but only swooped up the crumpled, yet still dry and clean towel from its abandoned post where she had left it earlier. Quickly toweling herself dry, she wrapped the towel around herself. It was slightly small, they all were on her markedly longer than normal frame, showing off her legs and not often seen cleavage.

Her senses were alerted; a gagging noise followed by a muffled squeak sounded throughout the still silent air. Whirling around while grabbing the towel, her eyes narrowed. A trickle of blood flowed towards the hotspring; dark brown eyes following the meandering track of the prodigious stream, she found its source, and it was a logical one indeed. Keitaro. Of course it was Keitaro. With her luck, his two pervert friends and Kentaro would show up too, with a myriad of hidden recording equipment. Belatedly, she looked around for some wood to knock on, but after a few moments, Motoko decided that the gods smiled mercifully upon her in this at least, allowing her to grasp the top of her towel in a white knuckled grip and charge at Keitaro, legs pumping fluidly and easily, stopping at the last moment to, once again, slam the unfortunate voyeur out of a conscious thought stream and into one of air and pain.

Brushing her hands clear of some imaginary dirt, she walked back into the house to change into some clothes. 

* * *

Tsuruko sat on the bench at the edge of the rink, watching some other early morning skaters move around the ice at varying degrees of skill; some fell more than once a second, a feat Tsuruko had not thought possible before now, while others jumped and spun admirably. 'Not like Motoko,' she thought. 'no one's like her....in skating of course...' Eyebrows drew together; why did she feel the need to add that to herself? It sounded fake, as if she was just trying to fool herself. Shaking her head, a motion that might have caused observers to wonder about her if she wasn't so young and so beautiful, she wondered where her little sister was, until she realized she was early. Six, it was. They had decided upon six-thirty for the beginning of their first practice. Thirty minutes then. If she didn't know herself better she'd have said that she was nervous. 

The tall, dark and polished warrior actually levitated a hand's width into the air as a hand tapped her gently on the shoulder. 'Okay, I'm nervous.' Tsuruko thought crossly at herself, then she made her own mental note of the day. 'Note to self; know self better.' A husky voice drawled into her ear, a bit coy, a bit flirtatious, but never serious.

"Well, fancy meeting the elder TDAS here. Of course, I knew you would be here, and obviously there's a reason I'm here as well, so I guess it's not such a fancy after all, is it?"

Dark brown eyes mirroring those of her younger sister's squinted ponderously as she tried to place the figure...

"Kitsune?? Well then, if it's not such a fancy, pray tell me two things; first, what on earth is TDAS supposed to mean, and second, what is the reason that you are here? I find myself genuinely interested, because, as you probably know or could probably see with your own two eyes, Motoko isn't here right now."

Kitsune found herself engaged, drawn in by the charismatic speech and dark eyes of a woman whom she thought was an impersonal type. 'She's like Motoko in some ways, but real different in others.' she realized. She grinned slightly; there might be two different sisters, but there was only one Kitsune. Some might praise the gods everyday for that, she thought.

"TDAS means Tall, Dark, and Sexy of course!" In the next instant, Kitsune had another revelation to add to her, as of late, growing list. 'Tsuruko blushes just as cutely as Motoko!' Seating herself unceremoniously with a whoosh of moving air, fluffed up down winter jacket deflating with a faintly audible hiss around her rear area, Kitsune dropped next to the still flushed elder Aoyama. "And I'm here to offer my services, such as they may be."

"Hmm, exactly what kind of services, Miss. Konno?" The foxlike woman fascinated her; mercurial and always out for a good time, there were few people whom Kitsune had never fascinated, or forced to like her. Tsuruko could see why Motoko had engaged in a relationship with this life-loving woman, and it irked her, because she was beginning to like this woman's infectious attitude as well.

"I wanna be you and 'Toko's manager!" Kitsune said this extremely cheerily, with an enormous grin on her face; if Tsuruko had been a more easily effected woman, she would have fallen over in a textbook animation movement, legs splayed vertically at seemingly impossible angle. 'Wow. That's enthusiasm, all right.' Tsuruko thought as Kitsune spoke on, oblivious to Tsuruko's chagrin. The warrior had been horrified because she thought Kitsune might be speaking of her..bodily charms. "I am, as a matter of course, very business savvy and a scheming type of gal, ask anybody. I'd be good for ya! And ya know what that old dead white guy said...it's better to have camels peeing outta your tent than into it!"

Well, the girl was certainly blunt, if nothing else, Tsuruko thought, and her skills were, strangely, perfect for the business. She took her time in replying, straightening her warm jacket and tugging on the snug fitting pants she was wearing.

"All right. I don't generally make a practice of trusting people who are scheming, but because you make no qualms about admitting to it and I appreciate your honesty, and because you are a friend of my little sister, I will make an exception. A word of caution though; should you try to trick me, I am most certainly not as forgiving as Motoko." For a brief second, the visage long since termed her Motoko-punishing face, reigned her features. Kitsune gulped inaudibly, realizing a small part of why Motoko held her ane-ue in such high reverence.

"Yas'm!" she blurted. "I mean, of course, Tsuruko! No double-crossing here! Speaking of doubles....lissen' to the idea I've got for your debut performance!"

* * *

Breath coming out in wisps of vapor from the slight chill of the rink, Motoko stuck her hands in the pockets of her puffy black jacket. Impatiently pushing the long scarf out of her way, she thought for the thousandth time on how strange it was to be out of her normal garb. However, even she had to admit that her practice gi was grossly impractical for skating. Eyes scanning the still sparse benches for the prominently tall figure of her elder sister, she wished desperately she had some hot chocolate, or tea, or...anything hot, she finally decided, in a fit of exasperation. About to head over to the concession stand, she finally saw Tsuruko, talking to a shorter, short-haired woman. Jealousy consumed her once again, as it had been doing a whole hell of a lot lately, almost taking her sight away with the force of it in a sheet of vivid red. Without thinking, she began to move towards her sister, and it was only her instinct developed by years of training that kept her silent and in some semblance of calm. 

The second figure, usurper of her sister, she thought irrationally, turned when Motoko was but five feet away from the bench. Cold relief doused her and the overwhelming tension building up dissipated, only to be replaced by apprehension and worry. Two feelings that often went hand and hand with the unpredictable Kitsune. Especially when she was somewhere she wasn't supposed to be.

"Ane-ue, Kitsune. Pardon me for my lateness. I did not expect to see you here, Kitsune.." The unspoken question in her voice was conveyed clearly to both Kitsune and Tsuruko, but it was Tsuruko who ended up answering it, Kitsune deciding only to look at Motoko's figure appreciatively, causing her to blush, yet again.

"Motoko, right on time, actually. Kitsune has just become our manager. I interviewed her myself, and am satisfied she will be adequate." Tsuruko looked, as she always did, confident. And like always, that made Motoko believe unfailingly in what her older sister was saying. To be honest, Tsuruko could have told her that the sky was about to fall down and without hesitating, Motoko would have moved to do her damndest to save her from it. Even if Motoko had known that Tsuruko's interview had comprised of all of one question, which Kitsune had answered somewhat dodgily, she would still have accepted it without a second's worth of thought. The younger warrior did, however, spare the time for a glance full of potential venom at the grinning fox, unknowingly compounding her elder sister's earlier threat. Again, Kitsune gulped. And then went back to ogling Motoko's figure.

"Oh all right, ane-ue. I'm sure if you think it is a sound decision it will work out for the best." Saying the words simply, still blushing slightly from Kitsune's not-so-discreet appreciation, Motoko again awoke a storm of controversy in her sister's mind with her steadfast devotion. "So, how will we begin?"

'Does she really believe in me that much?' Tsuruko wondered, visage never showing any outward appearance of her inner thoughts. 'What have I done to deserve such blind faith?' "Well, I have brought a pair of ice skates for you to wear, as well as my own. Perhaps we should venture out on the ice just to acclimatize ourselves to the experience once again."

Long, slender hands calloused from sword work held out a pair of new skates, blades shining in the lighting of the rink. A pair of just slightly shorter, less refined, but no less graceful hands soon joined them on the skates, to gently take them away from the older woman's grasp. A glance of hands; enough to send chills through Motoko's nerves that froze, but burned her up at the same time, and then again made her want to just melt into Tsuruko's flesh, to be as close as unhumanly possible to her. Instead, Motoko's long fingers gripped the cold leather of the skates and took them, tucking them under her arm as she sat herself on the bench, next to her sister.

Sliding those skates on, though they were much larger and more technologically advanced, slipped Motoko unwillingly into a world of nostalgia. Already she could feel the cool streams of air caressing her body as she glided on ice as if floating on air, and it surprised her how vividly she could still remember all of her experiences on skates. Barely avoiding tearing up, she stood after tying the laces on the skates. It was amazing, Motoko thought, how easily the balance came back, but she supposed the hand-eye coordination required to be a warrior had something to do with it.

"Hai, ane-ue. I am ready now...perhaps we should also choreograph a program and select a song to which to perform as well?" 

Tsuruko snuck a sidelong glance at Kitsune, who maintained her normal, cheery, slightly sneaky face.

"Nope! No need! I got it all planned out, 'Toko! So you just get yer pretty behind out there on the ice with your sister's pretty behind and hope that the ice doesn't melt with all the H-O-T -ness!" With this, Kitsune pushed the two women, who were, of course, blushing furiously, unceremoniously and cheerfully out onto the ice, still unconcerned as they struggled to catch their balance for a few brief instants.

"Kitsune! Just what exactly are we going to be skating to?" Motoko was beginning to feel some concern now; the last time she had heard, Kitsune wasn't a choreographer.

"It's a surprise! You won't find out until your majestical debut. But it'll be great, I promise!" Kitsune winked.

As Tsuruko and Motoko began to move on the ice, Tsuruko's hand glanced against Motoko's upper arm and Motoko groaned inwardly.

Anything Kitsune was planning was never good news and now Motoko had serious doubts about emerging from this experience in one piece.


	5. Interlude

Interlude

The massive pounding throbbed on in her head as Motoko awoke, and as she sat up for a minute, trying to steady herself, she thought she could detect the melody of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata in the incessant pulsations of agony. Even the mere notion of getting up made her guts roil, which was a relief in some small measure; previous to this, she would have wagered her sword on the sensation that she had vomited all of her internal organs into the toilet last night. Motoko groaned.

"Bleargh."

Agreeing to a pre-competition party, Motoko admitted wryly to herself, having just avoided the suit of ancient samurai armor mid-stumble after forcing herself out of bed, was most definitely not the best idea. However, the tall warrior managed to convince herself that her actions had been striving towards the greater good. Motoko felt she had a duty to keep Kitsune away from the alcohol. After all, Kitsune was the one who had suggested the party as a way to "calm their nerves", and it had become legendary knowledge that the combination of Kitsune and alcohol, rather than having a soothing effect, struck fear into the hearts of unplucked boys and girls everywhere. Motoko had seen to it that Kitsune steered clear of the drinks, but the warrior had yet to explain to herself how downing six glasses of the mysterious blue liquid her fox-friend had produced and getting herself absolutely plastered only to wake up with a body-pounding headache fit into her clever battle strategy. There was no doubt in her tortured mind that it all fit in beautifully somehow, but the details were just a little bit hazy. 'Maybe a quick dip in the hot springs will jog my memory,' thought Motoko bitterly, 'It seems to have done a wonderful job of it so far.'

The hallway was silent as Motoko slipped out of her room, pierced only by a muffled exclamation as she tripped. Catching her balance easily despite her uncoordinated state, she made her way outside without further incident, pausing only once she was outside to do a thorough search of her surroundings for the inn's omnipresent kanrinrin. Satisfied that Keitaro was nowhere in sight, the slender girl slipped silently into the steaming waters with a sigh of relief.

Her head cleared almost immediately, and she found herself offering praise to the benevolent spirit who created hot springs. She could curse Kitsune without a second thought at the moment though. Her slippery, scheming friend and ex-lover had proven even more mysterious than usual in her position as Tsuruko and Motoko's manager. Not only had she worked the sisters into exhaustion everyday regardless of whether or not they needed the work, she had forced them to practice without ever hearing the song they were to perform the choreography to, saying only "it's a surprise" in that eternally teasing tone she had. What's more, for a person who had, to the best of Motoko's knowledge, never choreographed any sort of dance before, Kitsune seemed to have an uncanny predilection to put an alarming amount of lifts and body rubbing into the program. Many a time after having to summon every remaining drop of her mental strength to stifle the hot sensations at every touch and extended glide the sensual choreography called for to prevent herself from running away as fast as her skate clad legs would carry her to dunk herself into the nearest body of cool water, she would shoot Kitsune the direst glare she could come up with, only to be met with the other woman's unshakable, undecipherable smirk. In fact, this internal frustration might very well have been the reason why Motoko had agreed to last night's revels in the first place; in her very short lifetime she had already learned that alcohol was good at drowning out unwanted emotions. It was a one time deal though. Motoko had no intention whatsoever of becoming addicted and having to dig herself out of a hole like Kitsune, who she currently wanted very much to bury in a hole.

"Baka Kitsune, when I get my hands on her I'll-," Motoko growled to herself, the frustrated words piercing the thick steamy air like bullets. She could see very little, as the vapors of the hot spring swirled and settled over the water.

"Nani? A spat between you and Kitsune? Motoko-han, you should not have consumed so much alcohol last night." A very familiar elegant voice penetrated in the midst of Motoko's rant, causing her to squeak and pale.

The hard boulders marking the boundary of the hot spring's waters collided with her unclothed back, producing a dull smacking noise, as well as a vivid red mark that she couldn't see. Motoko closed her eyes as tightly as she possibly could and wished with all her will that the person behind the voice wasn't who she thought it was. In the next few moments, it became clear that either the young warrior didn't have very much will power, or wishing for something wasn't enough to grant it. An indistinct form began to emerge through the steam, becoming a tall slender, curvy form all too quickly.

A face remarkably like her own stopped inches away from hers as she watched on, desperately trying to remain calm, brown eyes wide. Tsuruko's head cocked to the side slightly in a questioning gaze, as her own brown eyes held Motoko's.

"Ane-ue! Ehhh, yes I apologize, I realize I lack discipline and I accept whatever punishment you see fit to enforce upon me." Motoko hung her head in a show of shame, ebony locks floating on the surface of the water, secretly glad to have an excuse to look away from Tsuruko. She took the time to direct an even more heated tirade at the dancing Kitsune in her head, shocked when long fingers grasped her chin and lifted her head, forcing her to look at her older sister.

"Given the work you've done to ensure the survival of the Shinmeiryuu I will overlook your laxity this once...however. What's going on with you and Kitsune-san, Motoko?"

Motoko thought fast. Real fast. And then, for the first time in her life, she purposefully lied to her oldest sister.

"Oh, it's nothing important, ane-ue....It just came to my attention that Kitsune was playing around with my katana and samurai armor. Nothing major, but inexcusable nonetheless, neh?"

Tsuruko seemed to swallow it without another second thought. Motoko felt like a complete heel, and had to prevent herself from telling her older sister the whole, terrible, truth. It became even worse when Tsuruko began to console her.

"Ah, I understand, Motoko-han. Just remember that Kitsune is your friend, but she is not a warrior, she does not understand our ways."

The younger Aoyama smiled weakly.

"Hai, sister."

With that, the sisters settled down in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Motoko was beginning to doze off when, again, Tsuruko's voice cut through the silence.

"Come, Motoko, we should begin to get ready...the competition begins in a few hours, and I wish to get there early to make sure we're prepared."

"Okay." Motoko quickly nodded her assent and rose from the spring, water sluicing off her streamlined form. Avoiding looking at her older sister, who had also begun to rise, she grabbed her towel from the top of the rock where she had haphazardly strewn it, and began to towel off her hair as she made her way to the door.

She never once looked back. If she had, she would have seen Tsuruko, gazing at her with a half-awestruck, half-shocked expression on her face as she wrapped her own towel around her slightly taller form and followed her younger sister, who had obviously grown up, into the inn.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys, short one this time. Next chapter is on to the competition! Woohoo! I was originally going to combine the two, but then I decided it worked better this way. As always, comments welcome. Peace and love, all. 


	6. Extrapolating Flight

A/N: Sorry long time no update, but here it is!

Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my universe...Love Hina just basically doesn't belong to me.

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Extrapolated Flight

"Don't slouch Motoko." Tsuruko chided her gently, prodding a finger into the middle of her younger sister's back. The characteristically quiet girl jerked as if stuck with a cattle prod, and then straightened, continuing her brisk pace through the crowd.

"Hai, Ane-Ue." The roar of the crowd played in the background like white noise. Unsettled, Motoko grabbed the edges of her white gi and wrapped them closer to herself, seeking to hide herself away as she and Tsuruko moved towards the locker rooms to get ready for their first ever competition. Unless one counted that impromptu showdown fueled by pride that had taken place when Motoko had been at the tender age of five of course, but at this point, that particular event was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered, Motoko thought, was getting to the changing room, performing, and then getting out of the arena without humiliating herself.

"Hey....huuu...heh..guys! Wait..ack...up!" Kitsune's distinctive voice, one fourth rasp, and four fourths pent up sexual frustration, rang out across the arena, causing both Aoyama sisters to groan and turn. From about five yards behind them, the crowd of people moving towards their seats suddenly began parting, and Kitsune emerged from the throng like the Israelites from the Red Sea....if the Israelites bore any resemblance to a cross-bred mutated species of fox-lobster-puffer fish. And the abomination bore nearer to them, until she was once again caught up in all her sweat soaked glory. If at all possible, Tsuruko thought, Kitsune's eyes were even more narrow than usual.

"Oh trust me, it's possible." Motoko assured Tsuruko, causing her older sister to gasp in surprise. Clearly, Tsuruko hadn't thought she had voiced her thought out loud. Composing herself, she merely nodded, and resumed walking. Two more pairs of feet sounding on the cold concrete, one even and balanced, and one unsure and frantic, convinced her that Motoko and Kitsune were following closely behind. Well, at least Motoko was close behind.

"Kitsune, you really must get in shape." Motoko's slightly deep, warm voice chided the older girl, and Tsuruko could just imagine her younger sister's brown eyes staring at the pale Kitsune.

"Awww come on, 'Toko! First I lose my booze, and then you gotta make me exercise?! Correct me if I'm wrong, but methinks the Kendo girl is asking a bit much!" Kitsune's normally seductive voice was laced with a whining tone. The sake lover had been sober for a month now, according to herself, and though she was glad of the lifestyle change, the withdrawal was getting very trying for her. Five times now either Motoko or Tsuruko had had to grab an alcoholic beverage out of Kitsune's shaking grasp, and Motoko had made sure to check Kitsune's belongings before they had set out for the competition.

"You're wrong." Motoko stated firmly. "If you hadn't been drinking so much, you would have been in better shape, and therefore, I wouldn't have to make your lazy behind exercise." The young warrior emphasized her points with her fingers, making precise, efficient movements.

"Well, as I recall, 'Toko, you liked my 'lazy behind' well enough that one time when-"

"We're here." Tsuruko interrupted quickly, breaking off the rest of Kitsune's little anecdote, which without a doubt would have turned Motoko beet red with embarassment. Not that Tsuruko wouldn't have liked seeing Motoko blush, but she didn't think she could take the jealousy that would come of hearing about Kitsune's sexual activities with her little sister. 'Jealousy?' Tsuruko pondered, ' Who am I jealous of?'

The odor of stale sweat pierced her olfactory senses, cutting off any thought she might have had. Exchanging disgusted looks with Motoko and Kitsune, she plugged her nose and strode into the locker room.

The large space had low wooden benches screwed into the dirty gray concrete, vandalized over the years with graffiti varying in skill. Motoko's favorite as she scanned her surroundings was the stylized character 'Courage' on one of the least vandalized benches. Lockers lined the walls, painted a dark green color that was chipped away and showing a rust shade in places. Motoko sat on the bench that had caught her eye earlier, gi creating a barely audible swishing sound. A second swishing sound told her that Tsuruko had sat down, and Motoko's finely tuned senses told her Tsuruko was sitting in the bench opposite of her. Senses such as her eyes.

Motoko lost herself in a swirling pattern etched into the wood by her hand, staring into the whorls until it seemed as if they were moving with no start or end.

A locker slammed. Kitsune brushed her hands off. Motoko shot her a death glare, matched by one from Tsuruko. Kitsune sweatdropped, but then decided she had nothing to be sorry about and produced a relatively large duffle bag.

"Um, where did that come from?" Motoko asked.

Kitsune shot her a sparkling grin, complete with slightly puckered red lips. "The fox has her secrets."

Motoko snorted. "Mmhmm...so what does your all powerful secret," She indicated the lumpy bag. "contain?"

"I was getting to that before I was so rudely interrupted!!" Kitsune pouted.

A pink tongue stuck out and Kitsune was about to stalk over and jam her tongue down the beautifully displayed throat when a more mature voice interrupted.

"You two are like children." Tsuruko watched the interaction, for all intents and purposes looking bored, arms crossed over her robe.

Kitsune jerked back, and unzipped the duffle bag in an over the top motion, replete with flourishes and bows. Reaching inside, she produced two outfits, which she unrolled.

Two sets of Aoyama jaws dropped, and two sets of Aoyama eyes bulged.

"MITSUNE KONNO!!!"

Kitsune grinned again.

"Yes indeedy!"

The arena was never completely silent. Sometimes it roared with passion and excitement, and sometimes it faded to a dull buzz, but always there was some evidence of the audience it contained. Motoko, wrapping her arms around the dressing robe with trepidation, decided she didn't like it. Tsuruko appeared as calm as always, but secretly, she didn't enjoy it much either. The announcer's voice cut through the fading din on a fairly clear P.A system.

"A technically sound performance by the rookies from America, but the lack of artistry gives their performance a 4.6 overall. I really don't see much chance of this team going home with money tonight! In the lead we have a veteran team from Russia, and in second, we have the tenacious Canadians. Next to skate, a local team! Sisters from our own Japan, Motoko and Tsuruko Aoyama!!!!"

The crowd cheered as Motoko and Tsuruko made their way onto the ice. Through Kitsune's mechanizations, the rink was dark, and the audience saw only tall silhouettes gliding smoothly into place. Heartbeats marked the passage of time as the sisters waited in their starting poses.

The telltale beginning first beats of the song started, and the lights flashed on. The crowd gasped, and Motoko and Tsuruko began skating.

'Well I dated your big sister...'

Motoko almost tripped. 'KITSUNE!!!!!!' she screamed in her mind. She was clad in a sexed up red outfit that showed off her natural cleavage and the majority of her long legs, and that scheming wench had picked this song, out of all songs. With THOSE moves!!! The defrocked warrior groaned internally...when she got off this ice..

'And took her to the show...'

Tsuruko grabbed Motoko's hand easily and they began a foot pattern on the ice. It was a tricky maneuver, but they made it through without a hitch with Motoko's natural grace and talent shining through. The audience gave credit to Tsuruko though....it was hard to move like that in the tight leather pants and tailored jacket of the same material that Kitsune had her wearing. If Tsuruko were truly Elvis Presley, she would have been chafing something awful.

'She's mean and she's evil, like that little ole' boll weevil, guess I'll try my luck with you..'

Tsuruko seized Motoko and pulled her in seductively, until there was no space between them, leaning down to bring them both into a low dip where Motoko's long raven tresses brushed the ice. The audience applauded.

'But you been a growin', and baby it's been showin'...'

Motoko groaned at what came next. Her legs stopped pushing and she glided on the ice along the barrier in a straight line. Tsuruko was positioned in front of her with a wry, apologetic look upon her face. Motoko's shoulders on either side were covered with Tsuruko's warm hands.

'From your head down to your toes...'

The hands brushed their way down Motoko's front, swishing all the way down to the tops of her skates. 'Maybe we should have become a limbo team instead...' Motoko mentally groaned in arousal, and she could have sworn the audience groaned out loud with her.

'Little sister don't you, little sister don't you...'

Tsuruko and Motoko skated arms wrapped around each other, taking turns tossing the other a short distance into the air, where they spun and twirled.

'Little sister, don't you kiss me once or twice, then say it's very nice, and then you run....'

Motoko pushed off Tsuruko while her older sister dug the backs of her skates in, and skated away in the opposite direction. Instants later, Tsuruko was chasing after Motoko, Motoko deliberately slowing down to allow Tsuruko to catch up.

'Little sister, don't you do what your big sister done.'

Tsuruko seized Motoko from behind, and rather than execute an aikido throw as her senses screamed at her to do, Motoko whirled into Tsuruko, who dipped her again, but held it, her own face breaths away from Motoko's as the music ended. The air was cold, but the sisters felt warmer than comfortable. Oblivious to the charged atmosphere, the audience went wild, throwing themselves out of their seats and cheering wildly. A small bouquet of roses hit Tsuruko, but she didn't move. Motoko caught it off the bounce and cradled it, adding to the romantic appearance of the pose. Moments later, Tsuruko hoisted her younger sister up, and they skated off the stage, smiling widely as protocol demanded.

As soon as they were off the ice, Motoko threw off her skates in a very controlled rage, and began moving slowly towards Kitsune, who was sitting on a fold-up chair rinkside. Kitsune's eyes popped open, and sweat began to pour from her brow.

"Ummm...l-look Motoko, I can explain....ummmm see, I mean....uhhh, yeah it's like that!"

"Like...what?" Motoko ground each word out with deliberate menace, and her supple fingers began the trek towards Kitsune's exposed throat.....a hand on the warrior's shoulder was the only thing that saved Kitsune from a swift, painful death. Kitsune sighed in relief, earning a glare that would shrivel Hercules' nether parts off.

"Calm yourself Motoko, they are announcing our scores!"

And indeed, the same voice from before crackled over the loudspeaker, clearing his throat.

"Ahem...well...whew..that was...something else! Earning our only perfect score for the night, and giving us all something to dream about tonight, we have the Aoyama sisters!!!"

Motoko's jaw dropped as Tsuruko dragged her limp sister to the middle of the rink, where all the placed pairs were gathered.

"So," the announcer's congenially deep booming voice began, "how long have you two been skating as a team, and how many competitions have you had before this, and why haven't we heard about you before?"

"Well," Tsuruko began, clearing her throat slightly, her even contralto entrancing the captive audience. "we've been skating together as a team for about two months, and this is our first competition."

For the first time that night, the rink was completely silent.

"That explains a lot!" the announcer finally forced himself to speak. Then he turned to Motoko. "You two are a very good team. But you, Miss Aoyama, are something beyond amazing. Watching you skate, it's like watching God create the world." The man's voice was sincere, and Motoko was flabbergasted. She searched for an appropriate response.

"Um...Thanks?"

And so the legend began.


End file.
